


Angel Blue, With Teenage Traces

by Advocate_267



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Basically a bunch of oneshots inspired by Green Day songs, Food Fights, How They Met, Kraglin's shy, M/M, Ravagers - Freeform, Stakar needs help, Yondu's immature, friendly teasing, kragdu, slight AU, teenage!kraglin, teenage!yondu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-29 01:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15062507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Advocate_267/pseuds/Advocate_267
Summary: Oneshot series where Stakar has to deal with not one, but two moody, messy and trouble-making teenagers. Stars give him strength.





	Angel Blue, With Teenage Traces

**Author's Note:**

> A slight AU that looks at Yondu and Kraglin if they were teenagers under the care of Stakar.
> 
> Chapter 1: Yondu's being punished for his latest stint of shenanigans and finds himself a partner in crime.

Being stuck on kitchen duty sucked.

Yondu would know, he's spent so much time there you could practically consider him a culinary expert (even if Martinex would digress). It'd got to the point where the ship's official cook, an crotchety old krylorian, had enough faith in Yondu not to 'accidentally' poison anyone that the young centaurian could be left unsupervised to prepare meals for the crew.

Of course being forced to chop vegetables was far from the worst possible punishment Stakar could serve up; latrine duty is up there, right behind getting shoved out an airlock. Thankfully this time round Yondu hadn't pissed the Big Boss off enough to warren that treatment.

Not that this was a whole lot better. Who wanted to be stuck stirring questionably-edible soup when there was booty to steal? Thugs to whistle through? Hookers to charm?

Not him, that was definite.

He'd _much_ rather be flaying targets in the training hall or goofing around in the rec room or pestering Marty with his particular brand of outlandish humour. But nope, he was sentenced to this sweltering room for who-knows how long with a lanky rookie.

Oh yeah, the rookie.

Yondu'd almost forgot about him in his sulk. He was a funny thing, barely an adult, with a skinny frame and the dorkiest little overbite the ravager had ever seen. Bit of a shy one, didn’t socialise much with the crew outside compulsory. Got picked on by the other recruits too. Youdu had seen him practising in the training hall though and _flarking hell almighty_. He might look none-too bright but that boy sure was nifty when it came to knives.

...not that Yondu had been ogling.

He was the most bearable thing about this mess. Not because Yondu though he was cute or nothing,  _cer-tain-ly_. The dude just had a knack for being an entertainer of the clownish variety. Despite his fighting prowess Kraglin-or-whatever-his-flarking-name-was (Yondu forgot), was a first class kitchen klutz.

_Clank._

Proven by the stack of cans he'd just knocked over.

"Flark," He hissed a quiet cuss and immediately dives, rounding up the cans before they can roll away. One escapes his grasp and thumps softly against Yondu's foot. He bends down and scoops it up, inspecting the label with feigned interest. _Beasties Protein Snacks._ Yondu's eyes flick back to the boy currently faffing about on the ground, head ducked and attempting to pile the cans back into a more stable arrangement. His mouth twitches into a grin and he sends it back in Kraglin's direction.

"OW!" It clocks him on the side of the head, just hard enough to bruise. The rookie squawks and, to Yondu's amusement, actually has the gull to angle a glare at him. "What was that for?"

"Ya missed one." He states simply, face a picture of nonchalance. His focus returns to the block of cheese-like produce he'd been grating. Kraglin lets out a indignant noise and grumpily starts pulling out pots for the evening's mystery-meal.

Yondu smirks to himself. He can hear the boy muttering, the curses foul enough to give Aleta a run for her money.

He’d low-key like to get to know the kid but teasing him was so much more fun. Easier too, considering his reputation upon the ship. Yondu'd never got the whole 'making friends' thing down proper. Of course he had Stakar and Marty, Aleta and Charlie-27 too, whenever their paths crossed. Most of the crew however were a tad wary of him. Especially what happened after that incident on Knowhere. (We don’t talk about that incident on Knowhere -Stakar)

This Kraglin, though? He doesn't flinch whenever Yondu looks his way. Avert his eyes or squeak shyly, but there was no fear behind it. That alone made him adequate acquaintance material.

There's another crash and this time Yondu can't hold back the laugh brewing in his stomach. All the pots stacked tetris-style on the top shelve had fallen, raining down on the unfortunate rookie like metal meteors. One landed on Kraglin's head, obscuring the scowl that was most definitely intended for Yondu.  

The pot was lifted, Kraglin flat out glowering from under the rim. "Whatchu laughing at?" His voice is both outraged and exasperated, borderline embarrassed.

"You, ya idjit. Yer a real card." Yondu leans back against the counter, smirking toothily. "More entertainin’’ than watching strippers hit the pole."

Kraglin's face goes all blotchy and he tosses the pot off. It clanks against the floor, dented. Yondu tuts teasingly.

"Aw, now ya gone and damaged Cook's favourite stewin' pot. He's not gonna like that. Probably gonna put _you_ in a soup as punishment."

A brief look of concern passes over Kraglin's face before his anger returns. Slowly he reaches behind him, grabbing the first object encountered. "Punish this!"

Yondu barely dodged the egg hurled his way. It smashes against the wall, sticky guts splattering across his uniform. His smirk fades, replaced with dismay.

"That's gonna stain.” Yondu’s hand slowly closed around a wooden spoon “And if there’s one thing ya ought ta know about me kid, it’s that ah _hate_ doin’ laundry!”

Kraglin’s surprisingly quick for a klutz. He manages to avoid the spoon but his balance suffered. The can stack goes toppling once again, previous work scattered across the tiles. Without a second thought he hurls one as payback.   

It doesn’t hit it’s desired mark, Kraglin’s aim was spotty and it bounces off the the centaurian’s shoulder instead. Still, it’s enough to warrant a furious response. Yondu squares up, waving a rock-hard baguette warning. "Ya wanna go, scruffy?"

Kraglin’s quick to counter, grabbing his own ammo and standing tall. "Bring it, _bitch_."

Yondu’s almost taken back. _Damn, boy sure is feisty._ No time to dwell on Kraglin's sudden growth of a pair, it was time to battle!

The kitchen was by no means the largest room in the ship. In fact it was on the smaller side, just a few square feet wider than Stakar’s personal cabin. It didn’t come near to the training rooms, constructed specifically for friendly spats and tests of weaponry.

In short, the kitchen was not designed for fighting.

Yondu and Kraglin discovered this shortly into their food-infused brawl.

Kraglin miscalculated a lunge, slipping on some spilled cooking oil. He careened into Yondu, taking out his legs and just about everything else. The rookie wheezed as a hunk of muscle and leather toppled over him.

“Ack!”

Their landing position was more than undesired, Yondu splayed across Kraglin’s front and cutting off a few vital organs. Namely, his lungs. Yondu pushed up onto his elbows and, oblivious to Kraglin’s discomfort, grinned in satisfaction. “Ha! Ah think that makes me tha winner of this here round.” His victory is short-lived. Kraglin’s knee jerked up, landing a square hit between Yondu’s legs.

“Augh!” Yondu flopped, groaning. He raised his head sheepishly. "Uh, time out?"

Kraglin nodded. "Time out."

Yondu rolled to the side, relieving Kraglin’s crushed lungs. He sits up, gulping air as if he’d just been brought in from the black.

The centaurian chuckled, knocking his shoulder. “Ya got gull kid, I’ll give ya that.”

They just sat for a moment, back to back, in a puddle of something runny and yellow and probably expired. Yondu nudged him again. "So what'd ya do ta get ol' Stakar's leathers in a bunch? Don't normally see you here."

"Got caught fiddling with some of his private weapons." Kraglin explained, focused on digging some unidentifiable gunk from under his nails. As an afterthought he adds, "You?"

 "Got inta trouble last time we went planet-side. Cost Captain more than a bit o' dignity." Yondu sticks his chin up proudly. He'd had fun with that little escapade. Plus the look on Stakar's face had been priceless.

 Speaking of ‘priceless’ if only the gang could get a gander at Yondu now. The ravager looked like he'd hopped off the ship on Contraxia and gone rolling about in the snow in place of rolling around a bed. Kraglin's equally as mucky, body caked and hair sticky with honey. The rookie cringed at the mere prospect of washing it out.

Yondu, eyes sparkling cheekily, catches a glob of cream dripping off Kraglin's nose. He popped it in his mouth and recoiled. "Bleh, you taste worse than ya look."

His flush is a stark contrast to the white frosting and before Yondu can make a comment Kraglin’s scrambling up and a volley of vegetables are hurled his way.

The battle resumed. They were rougher this round, using more fists and feet in place of edible goods. Yondu gained the upper hand and had Kraglin pinned against the counter, hands firm against his shoulders. He lent down so his pungent breath brushed the boy’s ear.

“Gotta admit boy, yer nowhere near as dumb as ya look, unlike a lot o’ rooks who board this bird. Kinda endearin’ that.”

A fist full of flour is shoved in his face and he gets lost in the fight once more.

* * *

Stakar was getting annoyed. He was in the mess hall, surrounded by an equally aggy crew, wondering what the flark was up with their chief. Dinner should have been served over forty minutes ago, what was taking so long?

 And then he remembered.

Stakar slapped a hand over his face, groaning internally. Of course, Yondu and that rookie were cooking for them tonight. Something was bound to go wrong, it always does when Yondu is left in close vicinity of others without the captain to keep him in check. Slowly he gets up from the bench, intent on seeking out the source of the problem. He taps Martinex as he passes. "I'm gonna go see what the hold up is. Keep 'em from killing each other." The Pluvian nods, immediately being called to action as one of the bridge crew made to stab another with a fork.

Over the months since Stakar first took Yondu under his metaphorical wing the rugged captain had put up with all kinds of shenanigans. Yondu was an asset to the crew, what with his destructive arrow and gradually-increasing confidence, but he was also a grade-A pain in the ass. He caused chaos, he didn’t do as he was told, and he _always_ thought he could get away with it. So upon entering the kitchen Stakar had a firm suspicion of what to expect.

Stakar was wrong. Nothing could prepare him for what he stormed in on.

The room that was supposed to be the ship's kitchen didn't even remotely resemble a kitchen anymore. Ravager food-preparation stations were never a prime example of a spotless workplace but this- this was ridiculous.

The counter tops, coated in a slew of dust and muck that was supposedly meant to find its way to their plates. The cooking utensils, bent and tossed all over the place. The floor, a flood of murky liquid.

And, in the middle of it all, covered head to toe in all manner of foodstuffs, were two very naughty ravagers.

"What the flarking hell happened in here?!"

Yondu blinks white powder out of his eyes. He gently sets down the pint of moomba milk he'd been intent on dumping over Kraglin's noggin, pasting on his best angel-like expression. Without a waver he states "Makin' dinner. What's it look like?"

"It looks like a bloody bomb's gone off, that's what it looks like!" Stakar was livid. "I can't leave you alone for two minutes without something going wrong!"

Kraglin shrank in his boots. He dropped the frying pan he planned to make acquainted to Yondu's face and stuffed his hands in his pockets, finding great interest the puddle of rank egg white pooled beneath his foot.

"Wasn't just me," Yondu jabbed a stubby blue finger at Kraglin. "He started it."

Kraglin spluttered. "No, no! I didn't! You were the one that provoked-"

"Hmm," Stakar's thunderous gaze switched to the rookie. Kraglin was beginning to wonder if bog-duty _would_ have been a better punishment. He sure as hell wouldn’t have wound up in this situation.

"While I find it highly plausible Yondu deserved whatever whoppin’ you gave him,”

"Hey!"

"It still doesn't excuse the fact you helped create this mess." Stakar swept his arm around them in case said 'mess' was visible enough. Kraglin lowered his head meekly.

"Yes sir, I-I mean, sorry sir.”

“You will be sorry, when the rest of the crew get wind of this. Martinex practically has a riot on his hands out there.” To prove his point a something heavy and vaguely body-like slammed against the wall separating them from the mess hall.

“Yondu?”

The centaurian, continuing with his guiltless act, hummed. “Yes sir?”

“You and the rookie can clean up this mess. Then I want you both to go and hand out protein bars to the rest of the crew since a proper meal tonight is completely off the table, _literally_. I’m gonna warn you though, they’re awfully crabby and I’m not responsible for anything they may do. ”

Both ravagers looked a little put out but know better than to protest, accepting the punishment soberly.

"And clean yourselves up too. I ain't having you walk that stuff all over my ship." Stakar turned to leave, pausing in the doorway. "No more funny business. I expect to see this place spotless in an hour. Any longer and you can spend the overtime in the brig. Do I make myself clear?"

Yondu thumped his chest twice. The seriousness in his eyes was genuine. "Crystal, sir!"

Kraglin copied the motion and Starkar left, sighing deeply. What _would_ he do with them? Aleta would surely have an answer, a scalding sarcastic one, but a suggestion no less, and Stakar banished the thought entirely. He could handle a pair of troublesome teens, even if it turned him grey in the process.

Soon as Stakar was out of range Kraglin snapped to work, rolling up his sleeves in preparation for the mammoth clear-up job. He startled when an arm was slung over his shoulders.

"Don’t be so jumpy.” Yondu berated. Now the captain was gone he’d shed the devout mask and returned to his brazen self. “Ya looked like ya were gonna pee yourself when Stakar started yellin'."

Kraglin pouted. "Did not."

"Ya totally did!"

"Can ya blame me? I thought he was gonna space us."

"For kitchen wrecking? Nah," Yondu shook his head, earrings jangling with the motion. "Stakar may be a grumpy old git but he's got a soft spot under all that leather. He loves me too much. You? Dunno."

"Gee, that's comforting."

"Hope ya don't get spaced. I think I kinda like ya.“

"Ya think?" Kraglin's looks a little suspicious. He points at his bruised temple in empathise. "Ya got a funny way 'o showin' it."   

“Ya’ll get used ta that.” Yondu let him go with a rough hair-ruffle. It ended up pulling more than intended and Kraglin swears, retaliating with a swing at Yondu's side. The centaurian giggles as the boy tears away.

Kraglin located a couple of mops and related clearing products under the sink troth. He started on the disaster zone that was the floor while Yondu set to work on the walls.

"Do you always do that?" Kraglin enquires quietly, working the mop over a particularly sticky patch. 

"Do what?"

"Try and pull an innocent one over the captain."   

"Ya'll get used to that too." 

"Oh." The mop pauses. He blinks. "Will I?"

"Yeah," Yondu'd made his decision. This guy had a face he wanted to see again. "cause I _demand_ a rematch. Whaddaya say, another round before breakfast tomorrow? Unless yer too afraid of a bit 'o trouble."  

Kraglin had turned his back to him, bending down to grab one of the damaged pots. Yondu can't see his face but spies a coy flash of teeth reflected in the steel. 

"I'll bring the eggs?"

"You're on."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope that was okay, I'm still getting to grips with writing these characters. I have two more chapters planned out and started but I'm notoriously slow at updating so it might take a while.
> 
> Thanks for reading ^^


End file.
